Some resolutions

New Year's Resolution time. Last year I only had one: get better at Scrabble. I'd say I'm a 'words' person, but I've always been abysmal at this game. After a particularly pitiful showing last Christmas when my brother beat me by about a million points to ten, I decided it was time to take action. Cue a year of playing Words with Friends on my mobile phone, and a few moments spent learning some of those two-letter words that the pros have handy ('Qi' anyone?). Did it work? Well, this year I came second. That'll do for me.

My resolutions list for 2013 is still at the compilation stage. It seems like a good idea to keep them concrete – I'd say that getting better at Scrabble was the only resolution I've ever kept; I've never managed vague ones like 'be more efficient/more positive/healthier'. And although meet my Mr Darcy/Ryan Gosling* is on the wish list for 2013 (I mention this just in case they're reading), is that something I can 'resolve' to do?

So, here's the first draft. In 2013 I will:

1. (a) Stop being a compulsive book buyer. I'm not going to buy any new books until I've read all of the unread books in my house (Oh, the piles of unread books! I've started hiding them under my bed: it's getting desperate.)

(b) Stop being a book flirt. As in, reading lots of books at the same time but never getting to the end of any of them. I never used to be like that. In 2013, all books will be read from beginning to end. (Although if it's dreadful, I'll allow myself a veto. But if it's a good book, well, what's the excuse, eh?)

2. Learn to do front crawl properly. I can do the front crawl stroke, but can only keep going by stopping every two lengths. I'd never escape the Loch Ness Monster swimming like that.)

3. Blog more often. Yes. Say twice a week.

4. Savour the outdoors. I've stolen this one from Simon Barnes in The Times. He suggests taking a moment each week to enjoy something outdoors, or to look at some wildlife. Anything from ladybirds to Loch Ness monsters.

5. Be more adventurous. This probably comes under the category of vague at the moment. The plan is to refine the concept which I want to cover everything from trying raw fish (sashimi) (can it really be tasty? Raw fish?) to something like climb a mountain. TBC.

*Not so much meet 'my' Ryan Gosling as meet Ryan Gosling.

Cheddar Gorge

Saturday. The sun was shining, the sky was clear. Five of us squidged into my little car and we were off, to Cheddar Gorge. We took the scenic route – and only with one minor detour. Plus a pause to admire the breathtaking view from Dundry Hill across Bristol. A road closed sign that all the drivers seemed to be ignoring didn't stop us either, as we meandered down the bottom of the gorge, past smashed-up bits of tarmac suggesting recent rockfalls, until we reached the outskirts of Cheddar itself.

The huge limestone slabs loomed above. There, at the bottom it felt quiet, ancient. And just a smidgen further down the road, it felt a bit like a ski resort. Tacky gift shops, and little tea shops lined the road. A huge Costa coffee sign dominated the scene, its only competition being an illuminated 'Merry Christmas Happy New Year' above it.

Our walking route took us straight up through scrubland, trees and coppiced woodland. Coats came off, scarves unwound as we climbed higher and higher, to the top of the near-400 foot gorge. Unspoilt views across the Somerset Levels were our reward, and a picnic lunch, eaten huddled in a shallow dip away from the chilly wind, which included morsels of Christmas cake and sugary dates. The West Mendip way led us back down, to where the valley bottom had been flooded by recent rains, adding a spice of adventure to the walk. Drystone walls edged the fields above and the rogue river below; it reminded me of the Yorkshire Dales.

Another steep climb took us to the top of the other side of the gorge. Walking along the top, this side's edges are uncovered by trees. But, looking over, you can't see the road at the bottom. It looks deep. Looking out, there's another great view, only marred by the impossibly round manmade Cheddar reservoir. Wild goats roamed, munching the grass.

At the end of the walk are Jacob's Tower - a lookout tower - and Jacob's Ladder, the steps back down into Cheddar. Information boards on the Ladder told us about the Gorge's formation: we have the meltwaters of the Mendip Ice Cap to thank for this natural wonder. Stand at the top of the 274 steps, one board instructed, and imagine a piece of paper being placed there. The paper would represent how long humankind had been alive, the 274 steps the 'immesurable chasm of time'. With such profound thoughts on our mind, we headed to Derrick's Tea Rooms for a cream tea.

A resolution...

Oh dear. Over the past few months I've had so many things that I wanted to write about, and I haven't posted a jot. It's particularly annoying that all of the plays, films, books and concerts have slipped by, as well as some of the places I've seen. So, I'm going to a leaf out my younger diarist's self and use the time between now and Christmas to catch up. According to my blog archive, I've only posted 23 times this year, compared to 53 last year, and 114 times in 2007, the first full year of blogging. That's not the best record, so time to pull my socks up, although I'm not sure I can manage 30 posts by 31st December! Oh, and I'm going to resolve to blog twice a week next year.

A brief memory of Patrick Moore

Mention the name Patrick Moore, and most people probably think of astronomy, or, perhaps, monocles.  I think of both of these, but I also immediately think 'fax machine'. An odd association, I grant you. Let me explain. One of the magazines published by the company I work for is Sky at Night. When I started working  there the star-gazers were situated just round the corner from my desk. Right next to me was the fax machine. It was a rather ancient thing, temperamental and tetchy, prone to giving up halfway through sending, and it never provided any assurance that the fax had ever sent. Sometimes it would ring, as if the caller had expected it to be a phone number. By 2007 most magazine contributors were up to speed with using email to send in their words. Not Moore. He insisted on using the fax machine. Which is how, in my first few months of working there, I had on several occasions the rather surreal and gently amusing experience of hearing Patrick Moore's familiar, diesmbodied voice addressing the office as if he were putting a call out into space to find out if there was life beyond our planet: 'Hello. Hello? Is there anyone there?'